Angel One: Covert Ops
Chapter Nine
1643 Hrs, Iran
In an undisclosed location
George stepped out of the Osprey, surprised when he saw no one. "Joke?" He muttered, then continued muttering, thinking he was going crazy from the stress when a layer of sand peeled back to reveal a hole in the ground. It was something straight out of a science fiction movie.
Or so George thought. A clean metal platform rose to fill the gap in the ground, with that same young man he had met back at the air base standing on it.
"Well. Looks like you made it here in one piece."
"Yes, so I did. You in-flight entertainment system needs working on."
The young man-whom George had decided to call "young man," instead of "Jack," as his name was, laughed and gestured for George to join him on the platform. George hesitated, and, seeing this, the young man shook his head and said, "It's perfectly safe, Major, there aren't any flesh-eating aliens down there."
"Much as it may seem like the next thing that's likely to happen," George muttered to himself, then stepped onto the platform despite his own misgivings.
Three minutes and a vertical drop later, George was standing inside an immense cave, which looked quite man-made, especially since the entire place was either concrete or metal. He stepped into the cave, which was lined with computers and other whatnot with people working at them.
"This is a hardened bunker," the young man began, startling George, who had almost forgotten his presence. The young man noticed his surprise, and, looking rather amused, continued with his speech.
"This entire complex is mounted inside a giant… 'Egg.' The egg, in turn, is mounted on a series of massive springs, which, as you probably know are shock-absorbent. We have auxiliary power sources inside that will activate immediately once external power sources are cut off. Enough supplies to last us two months at double full manpower.
"The entire place was designed to withstand anything but a direct nuclear strike." The young man finally ended and George gave him a quizzical look. "So. What's my place here."
Smiling, the young walked forward into the cave, or egg, as he had so eloquently described it not so long ago, and began speaking once again. "Apart from all this, we also have our very own air force."
George, who had followed the young man, stopped walking and frowned. "So you brought me here because… you don't have enough pilots."
The young man, who had noticed George's halt, stopped walking too and turned to face him. "Something like that. I doubt you'd understand."
"So… Is this place affiliated to the Air Force Army?" George asked. "Yes. This place is under the direct command of General Granger." The young man coughed, and pulled out a cell phone. Or something that resembled it anyway. "Keep this with you at all times. It's your identification and my means of contacting you. Lose it, you might lose your life."
George nodded grimly, watching as the young man walked away. "Sir? I have orders to give you a tour of the base." George turned to see the source of the voice-a young officer. Female, he thought, though he couldn't be entirely sure because of the hairstyle and dress style.
"By all mean, lead on…" George fell in with the officer as she (or he) walked away.
1800 Hrs, Iran,
Nine weeks later,
Air Force Army Intelligence Underground facility,
Briefing room
"Major." The colonel standing at the front of the room addressed George as he entered.
"Colonel." Sitting down, George glanced at the screen behind the man. There was a map of the region displayed, along with some red and blue lines stretching in various directions.
In the past months, George had undergone intense physical and survival training, along with constant intelligence briefings that George referred to as "spy training." Not only was he much more muscled than he had be before being brought to the facility, but he was also much wiser (or so he thought)
"Gentlemen," the colonel began, as the last man sat at his place in the room, "This will be your one and only briefing for this mission.
"As all of you know, the GLA conducted a daring attack on United States soil not too long ago. We have… found the production plants. The enemy's facility is, in all reality, Chinese. The GLA imported some stolen technology into the region, and used it, along with anthrax and other toxins, to build deadly chemical suicide bombs.
"Fortunately for us, the plant requires power, unlike the GLA norm, where they assemble everything manually. We have conducted several raids on the facility, and yet have not managed to completely destroy the plant yet. So far, we have only managed to slow down or altogether halt production.
"As you can imagine, the GLA would be quite willing to rebuild, since this is a new weapon we have not found any foolproof defense against. Exploding the aircraft in the air is not the best option, since the toxins will spread out over the land and inevitably, affect a vast area.
"We've trained all of you in the arts of subterfuge, survival, and battlefield combat. Along with your flight training, this should enable you to infiltrate and disable or destroy completely the facility we have targeted. You will fly in along this route…"
The colonel pointed at one of the lines drawn on the map. George grimaced, and continued to take notes throughout the rest of the briefing.
1800 Hrs, Iran,
Air Force Army Intelligence Underground facility,
Hangar bay 6D
"Well. The Nighthawk." George cursed under his breath when he saw the plane he was to fly. He had hoped for a King Raptor or even a normal Raptor-and he got the Nighthawk.
"Too bad, then," he muttered to himself, climbing into the cockpit as a technician withdrew the ladder. The cockpit was of an odd design, with a huge backpack in place of the ejection seat padding, and the cockpit ejected out as one capsule. It was very similar to the F-111's ejection capsule, except that this capsule had wheels, a 20mm gun and a TOW missile launcher that would deploy after landing on the ground.
The TOW missile, which stood for Tube-launched, Optically-tracked, Wire-guided missile, had an immense range, was extremely precise, and rarely, if ever, failed to detonate or fire.
The 20mm gun was the M61A2 Vulcan, normally mounted on Raptors (though pilots rarely, if ever, used it, preferring instead to exploit their BVR (beyond visual range) capabilities.
George grinned when he saw the armament listing on his HUD, then, already fully strapped in, settled into the none-too-comfortable seat to wait for his take-off sequence.
To Be Continued...